Eyes Open
by Bad Mum
Summary: Thirteen couples in wartime.  Because now is all that they have.  For the "Make an album into a story" competition at the HPFC forum.  Based on the album by Snow Patrol.
1. You're All I Have

**Eyes Open**

_This is for xBeautifulTragedy's "Make an album into a story" competition at the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges Forum. The brief was to choose an artist and use the album you were given as a basis for the story. __My album is "Eyes Open" by Snow Patrol, and the story will be a series of oneshots about couples in wartime - both the first and the second war. The stories aren't songfics as such, but try to go a long with the "idea" of the song, and every one contains a line from the song (or a very close paraphrase of a line) somewhere in the text. The couples are either canon, or could-be canon - if there is such a thing!_

_The lyrics and chapter titles belong to Snow Patrol, and the characters to JK Rowling._

**You're All I Have**

_**(Bill and Fleur)**_

"_It's so clear now that you are all that I have,_

_I have no fear now you are all that I have."_

New Year's Eve, and things have never looked bleaker. The war shows no sign of ending, atrocities against Muggles, Muggleborns and sympathisers are increasing by the day, and the Order of the Phoenix is fighting what feels more and more like a losing battle against the forces of evil. No one knows where Harry Potter, the so-called hope of the wizarding world is. It is a week since Ron left Shell Cottage to re-join him and Hermione – at least Bill assumes that is what he has done, the note he left _("Found them. Thanks. Ron") _cannot have meant anything else. Even so, Bill cannot for the life of him imagine how his brother could have managed to find his companions when they seem to have dropped completely out of sight and existence.

So he and Fleur are alone again at Shell Cottage, which is as it should be – they are still newlyweds after all – but it feels all wrong. Perhaps it is just that the world is all wrong and that they can do so little about it. Order missions to protect Muggleborns or to take them to safety are now so dangerous that they are few and far between, and all too often lately the Order has arrived too late, finding those they sought to protect dead already, killed for the crime of their parentage. Any overt action against the Death Eaters and the new regime at the Ministry is too dangerous to even contemplate. Good men – Hagrid, Ted Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt and many others – are on the run and hunted, and Bill is sure that it is only a matter of time before his own family will have to join them. Lee Jordan's _"Potterwatch"_ is a comfort, a small reminder that they are not alone, that there are many who feel as they do and who are fighting as much as they are able against the all-pervading evil, but all too often it feels as if they have lost already, that any resistance they can offer is merely a rear guard action, staving off the inevitable.

So Bill cannot celebrate this New Year, he cannot conjure up hope where there seems to be none. He and Fleur have made their excuses to his parents, and are spending the evening alone, and he is glad of it. Right now, he could not stand the forced jollity that he knows his mother, with the very best of intentions, would insist upon. Fleur pours wine into their glasses and passes one to him with a sad smile. She knows how he feels, and she understands, although somehow she has managed to keep hold of a spark of optimism and hope where he sees none.

"Bonne Année, chéri," she murmurs, kissing him gently.

She understands when he does not wish her a Happy New Year in return, merely setting down her glass and nestling more closely into him. "We 'ave each other, Bill," she whispers. "Can you not let zat be enough for tonight?"

Despite himself, Bill feels himself beginning to smile. There is something about Fleur that makes him hope where all seems hopeless. Maybe it is Veela magic that he does not understand; maybe it is simply because he loves her. Whatever it is, there is a frightening magic in her that he clings to when everything else seems lost. He pulls her close and kisses her. They have each other, and for tonight at least that is enough.


	2. Hands Open

**Hands Open**

_**(Fred and Angelina)**_

"_I want to hear you laugh like you really mean it,_

_Collapse into me tired with joy."_

Angelina leans back in her chair and laughs until she is breathless and gasping. The other occupants of the slightly seedy but oh-so-genteel Muggle teashop raise their eyebrows and make tutting noises, but are too well-bred to actually say anything in protest.

Fred assumes an air of put-upon innocence. "I don't know what's so funny," he says straight-faced. "Someone had to send the new Minister a welcoming present, and George and I felt it was our place to do so. Anyway, there's no fun in sending dragon dung to Percy now he's disowned us."

Angelina mops her streaming eyes, and tries to look stern. "I don't know how you dare," she says. "What if you'd been caught?"

Fred shakes his head, his eyes twinkling. "We wouldn't be caught," he assures her. "We're far too clever – and too careful – for that."

"I hope so." Angelina is abruptly sober. They both know what would have been at stake if Fred and George had been caught out in their prank.

Fred reaches across the table and takes her hand. "Come out tonight?" he asks pleadingly. "Come dancing with me?"

Angelina nods and smiles. She finds it practically impossible to refuse Fred Weasley anything he asks. "Of course I will," she says. Fred stands up and reaches across the table to kiss her, sending the milk jug and the sugar bowl flying. Neither of them notices.

* * *

><p>"Why don't you just tell her how you feel?" George asks later that day as he watches his twin get changed ready for his night out with Angelina. "It's pretty obvious you're crazy about her."<p>

Fred scowls at him. "Obvious to you, maybe," he says. "Not to her, I hope."

"What?" George demands. "Why don't you want her to know? She loves you, and you know it."

"Exactly." Fred rounds on him, looking almost fierce. "Why would I sabotage the best thing that I've got right now? If I say anything, it makes it real, it makes it concrete. All the more to lose if things go wrong."

George shakes his head, looking puzzled. "I don't understand you sometimes," he admits. "How does saying something make it any more real? It won't alter at all what you – or Ange – have to lose."

Fred sighs, and flops down on the bed beside his brother. "It just does, okay?" he says tiredly. "If you can't see it, I can't explain it. It just does."

George shakes his head. He won't argue, but for once he cannot agree with his twin.

* * *

><p>Months later, after Fred's funeral, George knows for certain that he was right and Fred was wrong. Angelina turns a tear-stained face to him and says, "I wish – just once – that he'd said that he loved me."<p>

George doesn't have any answer for her.


	3. Chasing Cars

**Chasing Cars**

_**(Frank and Alice)**_

"_If I lay here, if I just lay here,_

_Would you lie with me_

_And just forget the world?"_

"Too late?" Alice looks up sympathetically as her husband comes into the room, looking exhausted and utterly defeated.

He sighs, and sits down beside her on the settee. "Yeah," he says. "Though they might have got clear. The house was empty when we got there. It's possible they might have been tipped off and escaped. Or the DEs could have beaten us to it – there was no sign of them either."

He puts his arm around her shoulders, almost absentmindedly, and she snuggles into him. He smiles down at her.

"How's Junior?" he asks, and she groans.

"Active," she says. "If he or she doesn't play Beater for England one day, I shall think myself very hard done by."

Frank laughs and kisses her. "Not long now, sweetheart," he says, and she groans again.

"I know," she says. "And I shall be glad not to be the size of a house any more, but…"

He raises his eyebrows. "But what?"

She shakes her head. "Oh, you know," she sighs. "This isn't the world to bring a baby into, is it?"

Frank pulls her close and kisses her neck. "We've had this conversation, love," he points out. "Junior's here, we have to make the best of it. Besides," he grins and kisses her again. "There's three weeks to go. We might have beaten You-Know-Who by then."

Alice giggles. "Oh Frank, you are an idiot," she says.

"Of course I am," he says happily enough. "That's why you love me." He sobers abruptly. "But remember, sweetheart, all that I am, all that I ever was is what you've made me. And we're in this together."

Alice smiles as she snuggles closer into him. "I know."


	4. Shut Your Eyes

**Shut Your Eyes**

_**(Molly and Arthur)**_

_And when the worrying starts to hurt_

_And the world feels like graves of dirt_

_Just close your eyes until_

_You can imagine this place_

"Are they asleep?" Arthur asks, as Molly comes into the living room and plumps down on the sofa beside him with a sigh.

"Charlie isn't, he's reading that terrible Muggle comic Gideon gave him," Molly says. "But at least he's quiet. The other two are fast asleep. You wouldn't believe how angelic Percy's looking after all the tantrums he's thrown today."

Arthur grins. "Probably wore himself out." He puts his arm around his wife and draws her close, but she pulls away from him. Her face is serious, and she has the air of someone about to deliver very bad news.

Arthur raises his eyebrows questioningly. "Moll? "What's up?"

"I…" Molly is close to tears. "Arthur, I-I'm pregnant."

Arthur sucks in his breath, and is clearly struggling for something to say. Finally he manages, "Are you sure, love?"

Molly nods miserably. "I did the test three times. And I do know what being pregnant feels like, Arthur." She is crying now, tears slipping down her cheeks unchecked. "We should have been more careful."

"Ah, love." Arthur pulls her close and kisses her. "It's okay, we'll manage. You're a fantastic mum."

She gulps and shakes her head. "Percy's not even one yet, and we can't afford another child, and this stupid war doesn't show any sign of ending ever. What are we going to do, Arthur? We can't have another baby, we just can't!" Her voice is rising dangerously, and she is shaking with sobs.

"Hush, love, hush." Arthur is calm and reassuring now that the first shock has past. "It's okay, it'll be okay. If Percy and this new baby are close in age, they'll be close like Billy and Charlie. Percy needs a playmate. And one more baby won't make that much difference to the money situation. We'll manage that like we always have. As for the war…" He sighs, but carries on. "It's got to end sometime. In the meantime, we'll keep our kids – all our kids, Molly – safe. I promise you. We'll keep them safe."

Molly manages a watery smile and snuggles into him. "Oh, Arthur… "

He pulls her onto his lap and kisses her. "Shut your eyes and think of somewhere, Molly," he says. "Somewhere where the worst doesn't' happen. Somewhere safe. That's what we'll make for our children, Mollywobbles. I promise you."

Somehow, and despite her fears, Molly believes him.


	5. It's Beginning to Get To Me

**It's Beginning To Get To Me**

_**(Sirius and Marlene)**_

"_I know more of the stars and sea_

_Than I do of what's in your head_

_Barely touching in our cold bed."_

It started out as fun, but it wasn't any more. Sleeping together – even though they didn't love each other, and weren't even pretending to – was just one more way of beating You-Know-Who, one more way of saying "Damn you! We're alive!" It was here and now and exciting, and one more way of squeezing some pleasure out of a life that was increasingly terrifying and depressing.

The first time wasn't even in bed, just a ten minute scramble in a back alley after an Order meeting that had degenerated into a drunken session of whose day had been the worst, and who had come closest to dying that week. Marlene was older than Sirius, more experienced, brasher, and he could never quite get past the feeling that she was laughing at him even as they fucked. You couldn't call it "making love"; there was no love in it.

The thing was, though, they had been friends before it started. Good friends, despite the difference in their ages and backgrounds. Marlene would offload to Sirius after a particularly bad day at Mungo's, he'd hold forth to her about the awfulness of his family and how his best friend and his new wife were so lovesick he scarcely got a look-in these days. They liked each other, they enjoyed each other's company.

But now, when there was an unspoken expectation that every encounter between them would end up in bed, things were different. Sirius felt he couldn't be open with Marlene any more. She was beginning to think that she knew more of the stars he was named for than she did of the man himself. The highs they gave each other was as good as ever, perhaps even better, but they didn't talk any more, didn't share a joke, never caught each other's eye across the table at an Order meeting. Everything had changed; neither of them liked it; and neither of them knew how to get things back to how they'd been before.

And when Marlene died – struck down with her parents and brothers and sister-in-law and tiny niece – Sirius mourned. Oh yes, he mourned – perhaps more deeply than any of the others who had called themselves her friends.

But he couldn't hide from himself that as well as the sadness he undoubtedly felt, there was also a tiny spark of relief. He hated himself for it.


	6. You Could Be Happy

**You Could Be Happy**

_**(Tonks and Remus)**_

_You could be happy, I hope you are,_

_You made me happier than I'd been by far_

She wanders around the empty flat wondering what to do with herself. It is too quiet, too empty and everything she owns seems to remind her of Remus, to smell of him. Their last conversation plays again and again in her head. If you could call it a conversation – he was cold-faced and unnaturally calm, but she was screaming and sobbing by the end of it. Could she have said something different? Done something she hadn't done? _Been_ somehow different?

But somehow she doesn't think she could. The problem was Remus. Remus and his insecurity and paranoia and blasted _fucking_ Gryffindor nobility, which was nothing of the sort because this wasn't for her good or for the baby's, whatever he might have said about it. This was all about him, and right now, she hated him for it.

Except that she still loved him.

They could have been happy. They still could.


	7. Make This Go On Forever

**Make This Go On Forever**

_**(Ron and Hermione)**_

_The first kiss and the first time_

_That I felt connected to anything_

It's ridiculous that this should happen now. Now, in the midst of noise and chaos and fighting, when they could die at any moment.

Or perhaps it isn't ridiculous, perhaps it's right and proper and totally understandable and somehow inevitable.

Ron has wanted this for so long, but never pictured it like this. How could he? You don't picture the first kiss with the girl you've been crazy about for years taking place in a smoky corridor with your best friend standing there watching and a bloody battle going on around you. You don't picture it happening after months of stress and fear and hunger. You don't picture it happening after your own betrayal, after knowing full well that what you did was wrong, and feeling that however sorry you are you can never be as sorry as she thinks you should be or – hell – as sorry as she deserves you to be.

But it's happening and it's real, and it's better than he ever imagined, and Ron wants it to on forever.

Hermione never imagined it like this either. In fact, for a long time now she has refused to let herself imagine it at all. After he left, after he left them, she couldn't even think about Ron without feeling so sad and so confused and so downright angry that she couldn't think straight at all, sometimes she couldn't even _breathe_. She didn't even know if she _wanted_ it to happen any more. And even the last few months, when he's been back and she has forgiven him – more or less, most of the time – they've been so focussed on Horcruxes and fighting and just _surviving_ that this hasn't seemed possible or even desirable.

But now it's real and it's happening, and the fact that it's in the middle of a battle and they might die any minute doesn't matter, it even makes it better. It's wonderful, better than she could have imagined, and Hermione wants it to go on forever.


	8. Set The Fire To The Third Bar

**Set The Fire To The Third Bar**

_**(Harry and Ginny)**_

_Miles from where you are_

_I lay down on the cold ground and I_

_Pray that something picks me up_

_And sets me down where you are_

Would it be harder or easier if she knew where he was and what he was doing? Ginny can't decide. If she only knew that Harry was safe, perhaps it would be easier to bear his absence, to get through the grim days at Hogwarts with Snape and the Carrows in charge. But wherever he is and whatever he is doing, she knows he of all people _cannot_ be safe. Any safety now is temporary, an illusion – for him even more than the rest of them. Would knowing the particular danger he is in help at all?

Probably not, but she longs to see him, to talk to him, to feel him near her and let him set her whole body alight with just the touch of his hand. She fights for her friends, for her family, for the students of Hogwarts. She fights because of who she is, how she has been raised, what she believes in. She fights because she can do no other than be true to herself.

But most of all, she fights for him. And holds on, increasingly desperately, to the fact that he is out there somewhere, that he is fighting too, that he knows what he is doing. She believes, because she has to or she will fall apart, that they will be together one day.

She wonders if he thinks of her at all.

* * *

><p>Late at night, Harry pulls out the Map, mutters <em>"Lumos" <em>and feasts on the sight of Ginny's dot safe in the Gryffindor House girls' dormitories. Knowing she is there, that for now at least she is safe, helps just a little. He touches the place on the map where her name is, imagining that it is her face rather than a dry old parchment, that she is smiling at him, setting the whole of him alight with just the touch, the feel of her.

He is fighting for so many things, so many people. He cannot pretend that it is for her alone that he fights. But it is the thought of her, the hope of being together one day that keeps him going on days when everything seems hopeless.

He holds onto the hope that he will see her again one day.

* * *

><p>When they do meet again, at Hogwarts inevitably, he is so focussed on the elusive Ravenclaw Horcrux and she is so focussed on arguing with her parents over their insistence that she is too young to fight, that they scarcely say a word to each other. Now is not the time.<p>

And afterwards, so many are dead – _her brother_ is dead. There is hope now, and a future to live for – to live _in_. But now is not the time either.

No matter. They have the rest of their lives now.


	9. Headlights On Dark Roads

**Headlights On Dark Roads**

_**(Ted and Andromeda)**_

_Headlights show it all before me_

_So beautiful so clear_

_I will reach out and take it_

_Cause I'm so tired of all this fear_

Perhaps they were luckier than they realised the first time around. With Ted being Muggleborn, and Andromeda the rejected daughter of Pureblood aristocracy, they should have been a target for Death Eaters. They were careful. They didn't flaunt their alliance – Nymphadora's birth wasn't announced in the _Prophet; _Andromeda continued to use her maiden surname; they didn't go out together anywhere more than a handful of times for nearly eight years. But all the same, they should have been a target, and never were. They didn't understand it. Perhaps Bellatrix had some vestige of family feeling for her sister after all, and had somehow kept them safe. Whatever it was, they were grateful for it.

* * *

><p>But this time it is different. Nymphadora was in the Order of the Phoenix; they had shown their own sympathy for the Order more than once; Bellatrix' slaying of Sirius and attack on Nymphadora at the Ministry had demonstrated all too clearly that whatever family feeling she had had was long gone. Added to that, there was the odious Muggleborn Registration Commission, and Ted, being Ted, refused to even consider registering, despite his wife's pleas.<p>

"It's not like they'd treat me any different if I do register, Dromeda love," he pointed out gently. "They want rid of my type. You know they do."

Andromeda could not deny it. She bit back her tears, because she was still a Black, and Black women did not cry about things that could not be changed, but she could not stop herself from clinging to her husband.

"What will you do?" she asked, as steadily as she could, feeling all the time that she already knew the answer.

He held her tighter and spoke into her hair. "Go on the run," he said quietly. "I won't be the first or the last. If they get me, they get me, but I won't give myself up to the bastards. I want some sort of choice in this."

He feels her body shaking against his, but she makes no sound for a long time. Finally, she whispers, "When?"

He tips her head back and kisses her. "Tomorrow," he says. "Early, before dawn."

* * *

><p>It is still dark when he leaves. Andromeda holds him for a long minute, but will not hold him back. Neither of them speaks. They can see their feelings, their love, in each other's eyes. There is nothing they need to say.<p> 


	10. Open Your Eyes

**Open Your Eyes**

_**(Fabian and Dorcas)**_

_The anger swells in my guts_

_And I won't feel these slices and cuts_

This feels strange and untrue, as if it is happening to someone else not to him. Fabian seems to be seeing things more clearly than ever before, and everything seems to be happening in slow motion. Strangely, he is not afraid, merely angry, and sad for the things he will never see, never experience. He knows there is no way out.

Off to his right, he hears Gideon swearing and knows he is battling as hard as he is himself. They might be going to die, but they will take a couple of these bastards with them. A hooded figure looms in front of him, and Gideon shouts, "Yours, bro!" sounding almost elated. Fabian fells the Death Eater, but as he does so hears his brother scream and sees him go down. He is on his own now, and his anger swells. His hand is slick with sweat on his wand, his eyes temporarily blinded with tears, but his aim is perfect as he aims a curse at the man who killed his twin.

He spares a thought for Molly and her boys, for the new born niece he will now never know. But the thought of them is fleeting. Even as he rages forward, his wand held high, he is thinking of Dorcas, his Dorie, his only love. He thinks of her laughter, her warmth, her fire, her certainty that one day, whatever it costs, their cause will prevail. He sees the Death Eater opposite him aim his wand, and knows he cannot evade the curse. It is Dorcas' eyes he sees, her hand clasped in his that he feels as he follows his brother into the dark.


	11. The Finish Line

**The Finish Line**

_**(Neville and Hannah)**_

_I think the finish line is a good place we could start_

Neville should feel tired, exhausted. But all he feels is a kind of emptiness mixed with pride, and a deep relief that, at long last, it is all over. The Great Hall is still full of people laughing, talking, crying. The sun is rising, and the Hall is bathed in a pale golden light, reflecting from the windows, shining on the tear tracks on faces, lighting the smiles. The ceiling, reflecting the sky outside, is a pale grey laced with gold and red.

For the first time since the battle ended, Neville is alone. He is glad of it, glad not to have to talk, to go over again what happened yet again, to celebrate or to comfort.

Then he hears his name, and it is as if he is awakening from sleep, as if he has been waiting for this without even knowing that he was.

"Neville."

He turns and sees Hannah behind him, a cut on her cheek and a heavy bandage on one arm, but whole and alive and smiling. She sits down beside him and slips a hand into his, resting her head on his shoulder. He puts his arm around her and pulls her closer.

Throughout this long year she has been his friend, his ally, his strength. He does not know if friendship will deepen to anything more, but right now it does not matter. They have the rest of their lives to find out.


	12. In My Arms

**In My Arms**

_**(James and Lily)**_

_You look so fragile I could break  
>But I try to hold myself<br>Together for the both of us  
>But in truth I'm just as scared<em>

The world has contracted to just the three of them, James and Lily and Harry. Now and again, Padfoot or Wormtail will take the risk and visit, but it is rare. They have not seen Moony for weeks. They try to keep busy, to give themselves at least an illusion of occupation, but it is hard. Lily does better than James – she manages to fill her days with playing with Harry, reading, even embroidery or knitting now and again. James is like a caged animal, prowling to and fro in the cottage, longing for his vanished freedom.

Physically, they have all that they need. The pantry is well-stocked, and old Bathsheba next door occasionally visits with fresh fruit, or bread rolls that are still hot from the oven. News is rarer, but devoured even more avidly by both of them. The fear is never far below the surface: they know the danger they are in, they know they have no choice but this self-imposed imprisonment.

Harry is a joy and a delight. He is steady on his feet now, his speech progressing to two and three word sentences. He is also developing a very strong will, and a frighteningly loud yell when he does not get what he wants when he wants it. Lily longs to do normal things with her son, to take him to the park, to walk with him to the shops and have old ladies admire him and ask his age and his name. James laughs as Harry rides the toy broomstick Padfoot sent, and has procured a Snitch from somewhere for Harry to play with, but he would love to take Harry outside for a proper father and son game.

At night, James lies awake, jumping at every noise and watching Lily sleep. He wants so much to keep her – and Harry – safe, to be able to promise her the free future they have dreamed of, but he knows he cannot. When she wakes and smiles at him, he remembers that they are in this together, and knows without a doubt that he could not face another day without her in his arms.

Somehow, they manage to hope and plan for a free future. They do not want Harry to be an only child, so they ditch the contraceptive charms. It is a tiny thing, but for both of them it is a gesture of hope, of defiance, of belief that one day they will be free.

They have to keep believing that.


	13. Warmer Climate

**Warmer Climate**

_**(Dean and Luna)**_

_The universe just vanished out of sight  
>And all the stars collapsed behind the pitch black night<br>And I can barely see your face in front of mine  
>But it is knowing you are there that makes me fine<em>

They are thrown together by circumstances. In the tiny crowded cottage, everyone else has someone and some purpose. Dean and Luna have no one and nothing, and come together almost inevitably. They walk together along the cliff top or the beach, they gather driftwood for the fires, they talk.

For both of them, it is a time of healing and relief and new-found freedom. They laugh a lot together. Dean begins to draw again – the cottage, the sea, Luna herself. Luna talks to him as he draws, and although he understands barely half of what she says, and believes even less of it, her talk is easy on the ear, just part of the unreality of this time.

The first time they kiss it seems natural and inevitable, and they walk back to the cottage hand-in-hand. In front of the others, they say nothing, act as they always have, as friends only. Their relationship is part of the healing they are both going through, they know it is for themselves only, and they know too it will not last beyond this time.

But for now, when the world seems so small, it is just what they both need.


End file.
